An Emerald Refrain
by Gray Voice
Summary: Lily travels the land in search of music and novelty, just like anyone else would search for, and for all the people she meets in the end she travels alone. So when she met the woman with the green hair, she didn't have any reason to expect to see her again, over and over. But somehow she found a way to be everywhere she goes. Yuri, Gumi/Lily.
1. Part One

It was never the speed of the bike that she enjoyed so much as the simple feeling of motion.

It was the sensation of moving forward that Lily truly lusted after, the knowing that she was chasing the next stretch of road and dissipating everything from before into the void of behind, and it was the whipping of the wind through her hair that she could always rely upon to prove to herself that she was alive.

So the humming beast carrying her on from between her legs was a valuable companion. It moved her forward with a constant rush from its great motorized wheels, but she always took care to remember that the rush was a luxury. Lily could walk if she had to, could lug her guitar and knapsack of food and spare clothing along for however far it took to reach the next stop. All the speed truly gave her was convenience when you got down to it.

She was lucky. Everyone wants conveniences.

Another sign for the current next stop passed by. "To Valka" was all it said. The sign indicated where Valka was by being shaped like a large arrow pointing along the road. It didn't say anything about how far away it was pointing, how far you had to go before the direction it pointed in wouldn't be the direction towards Valka anymore.

Imprecise, but simple. Lily admired that.

She rolled along with the bumps and dips the road took to match the shifting landscape, taking the movement in but not truly focusing on it. Her focus was on chords and lyrics and the order to put them in. Something about the green of the surrounding hills, their particular rise and fall, left her inspired. They were far off but persistently visible, something she knew she wasn't really approaching but still wanted to make sure she was aware of. Like more of a distant companion than a landmark.

No matter what they were, someone was bound to appreciate a song about them. But maybe with a few extra fantasies thrown in for good measure. Like maybe endless mountains full of magic instead of the familiar green hills. Audiences were always craving for something stranger than they actually imagined lay outside city limits, after all.

It was fortunate things worked that way. It made keeping up Lily's livelihood so much more predictable. And that was probably the only place where "predictable" was ever a positive.

She'd conjured up a few decent verses by the time the first few buildings came up to meet her along the road. Fairly shabby, the lot of them, but Lily couldn't deny the charm they presented the entire town as having. Something like a sense of pride or maybe originality.

Though really that was just a polite way of saying "worn down." Everything in the town looked like it was ten years old from the moment it was first built. They were all rustic homes of brick and wood, but at least everything was in reasonably good shape, despite the age. No broken windows, no visible leaks in the rooftops. Chipped walls and uneven roads were the full extent of the town's state of disrepair.

That was promising. Somehow or another they'd at least managed to keep the place running smoothly, even if they couldn't keep it up to date.

Lily brought the bike to a stop as she came further into town, hopped off it. This wasn't a particularly large community, she could tell. There wasn't any point in wasting gas wandering around it.

She walked down the uneven cobbled pavement with the two-wheeled beast left behind, guitar on her back, knapsack in tow. The buildings looked dirtier up close and no less ancient.

Not far from the outskirts the town opened up into a kind of square. At the steps of a shop an old man was sweeping away at the dust that'd settled in front of the door. He was the first person Lily had seen that day. The other shops and stands were lifeless, barren like the dirt stuck between the cobblestones passing under her feet.

"I see you're a musician," the old man observed as Lily came closer. "Strange. Don't get many musicians passing by these days."

He was sweeping as he spoke, his attention on the broom and the clouds it picked up. Lily stayed fixed on him. For all she knew, this was the only person in this entire town. He could be the sole owner and sole patron of every home and shop she'd find as she meandered through this place.

Not that he actually _was_. It was just possible. You always had to think in terms of possible.

"I don't suppose you're planning on stopping by here long?" the man went on.

"Can't say for sure," Lily replied. "Depends on how much I could make here. No offense, but that doesn't look like it'll be much."

"You might try askin' at The Mossy Stump. I figure they'll have some use for your type there." He gave a shrug of his head towards a road out of the square. "Might even be happy to see you, they might. They're always achin' for new entertainment."

"Thanks," Lily said. She was letting her focus on him go, now. "Think you'll head there, later on? I figure they won't put me on till past sundown."

"Might go, work dependin'," the old man said. "But I'd like to. And the missus would too, I'm sure. The folks on the radio can't afford to put up new stories much this time of year, and we've been hankerin' to hear a new one, even if it's in a song. That the sort of thing you play? Songs with stories?"

Lily chuckled, started walking out of the square. "Every song's a story, gramps. But they're all only as new as you can make 'em."

* * *

The Mossy Stump was a bar that looked about as large and run-down as anything else in Valka, its structure small and its walls a crude patchwork of mixed stones. On its roof was a rusted weather vane, slowly turning in the wind.

If nothing else, the place had the smell of popularity about it. Lily could sniff out that smell from a mile away. You had to get a sense for what places people gathered at if you wanted to live, let alone survive.

The inside of the bar was deserted, but less so than the town. It didn't have a stage or anything resembling one. Just seats and tables that were in similar shape as the outside.

That was all right. Lily had scraped by with worse circumstances. All you ever really needed was space enough for a guitar and a decent-sized audience. And considering how people were bound to drink a fair deal in a dump of a town like this, that ingredient was sure to come later on.

So Lily smiled to herself. Decent findings, she figured.

The lack of patrons made it easy enough to get in touch with the owner of the place. She insisted on bringing Lily to a smoky back room, a cramped den she called an office.

"Play here? Tonight? Well, I do admit it's short notice, but since you're just passing through, can't really be helped, I guess. Not that we'd need to move anything around to get you in. Nobody plays here much, except for a few music students, when they feel up to it. I bet that's what you were counting on, huh?"

She took a long drag on a cigarette. Her hair was short, a light coffee color. She was wearing a red sleeveless jacket zipped up just barely below her cleavage.

"But I'm not just going to throw money at you. I want to see what you can do first."

So Lily whipped out her guitar, strummed out a song that she sang along to. She chose a powerful one for the barkeep, something emotional. The lyrics involved a young woman pining for a lover who'd got lost in the nearby mountains, trapped there in a strange storm of fog and rain, despite making a promise to come home and marry her one day.

"Used to sing this all the time back home," Lily explained.

She plucked at the strings carefully, at a moderate tempo, weaving her voice in to match the mournful sound. She even felt a little satisfied with herself, hearing how gracefully the song came out.

Especially considering how distracting the barkeep's cleavage was.

When Lily finished, the barkeep put out her cigarette, actually clapped a few times.

"Stellar! They'll love you, just _love_ you! Show up around seven and just play for a couple hours, if that's all right. And don't worry, your rate's fine—I can spare a few meals easy, and gas fare isn't bad here, so that's no trouble paying for. Impress me and I'll spare a few morsels to go, too."

Lily grinned. Tips included, that all might make this the best stop this month. Not to mention the matter of company she could keep, if she kept her wits about her. The barkeep had a nice smile to go with some gorgeous curves. And almost as importantly, she seemed easily impressed.

She could even hear the gears of another new song turning, taking all this in. Decent findings indeed.

The main room of the place seemed warm as she wandered back into it, strangely tempting in atmosphere. A few more seats had opened up by now. Not that they were especially needed. But it was a welcome invitation. It was still a long wait until seven o'clock, and nothing much had caught Lily's eye as she'd come up to this bar. Besides, she was in a celebratory mood by now.

She plopped down on a stool at the bar. "Say," she called out to the bartender, "you got a beer you recommend here?"

The question hit the bartender by surprise. She hurried over to Lily, loudly answering as she went.

"Uh, well, we don't have anything too special. Just a draft or two shipped in from out of town, besides what's brewed here."

"Local flavor always sounds good," Lily said.

The bartender gave a smile, a little wider than what you'd give to imply just service. "Just a sec, then."

Lily watched the employee as she went, as she came back with overflowing mug in hand. She took a sip once the glass was in hand.

Neither local flavor turned out half bad. She was a young woman, visibly younger than her employer. Green hair barely past her neck and a short-sleeved shirt gorgeously low-cut along the neckline. Short height rounded out by a slim waist, curving just right up to a generous chest. Bright eyes that twinkled with something almost nostalgic.

Lily gulped down more of the beer. All of a sudden she felt like switching gears.

"It's a decent place you have here," Lily said. "Folks are always flocking in, yeah? It has that kind of feel to it."

"Business is all right, if that's what you mean," the bartender replied. "Or, my shifts get busy later on. I guess I can't say much about 'business.' That's not really my department here."

"So I can expect a decent crowd tonight?"

The young woman looked surprised a second, brushed it off with an embarrassed chuckle. "Oh, you've got a guitar on you—I shoulda guessed, you're playing here. Yeah, you can expect a good number of faces. We don't get all that many people coming in town, so I'm sure plenty of people'll make an excuse to spend a night out for you."

"Glad to hear it. Nothing gets you lower than playing to a sparse audience."

She nodded a couple times, comprehending. "So, what sort of music should I expect to hear?"

"Music you haven't heard before, I'm hoping. Except it's supposed to sound like you might have, most of my songs. Know what I mean? Like a memory you didn't know was there, and it only jumps out at you once you hear the right phrase or see the right face."

"Sounds lovely," the bartender said, dreamily. "You must really love what you sing."

"Oh, I only sing songs I love," Lily replied, grinning. "If it doesn't move me, there's no way it'll move anyone else. And if I'm performing it, I figure it might as well move someone. That's what an artist is supposed to do, don't you think?" She took a long swig of her drink, lingering in the still of the homey surroundings. She could tell the other woman was still transfixed on her. "My name's Lily, by the way."

"I'm Gumi," the young woman said.

Lily repeated the name once or twice. "Gumi, huh?" Cute. Like a gumdrop she could swallow up in one bite. "Lovely name. Quite fitting, I'd say."

She blushed, somehow taken aback by this. "Well... thank you." She recomposed herself. "So, any reason why you stopped here, Lily?"

"No, no real reason," Lily answered. "I wanted to stop somewhere, and this place was nearby. That's all there really was to it."

"Then, are you headed anywhere?"

"No place in particular, no."

Gumi raised her eyebrows. "Really? So, what, you're just going where the road takes you?"

"I wouldn't put it like that. The road doesn't 'take me' anywhere. It's just there. And _I _take _it_. Simple as that, really."

The bartender didn't look any less surprised. "And, how long have you been going on like that?"

"A few years, I guess. Couldn't tell ya for sure. I was never really keeping track of time."

"Wow," Gumi said. "I... I'm not sure I can imagine living like that."

"It's what I do, 's all," Lily replied. "And it has benefits. I see all sorts of things, traveling around. Hear all kinds of songs, stories. One town, they had statues of a different fish on every rooftop. Because that was their heritage, you see—a fishing village. So all year round they have festivals about fish, and they make the whole town decorated with art about the sea. And the beach there..." She took a slow sip of her beer. Carefully, she let her eyes burn into the other woman's, let their gazes start to melt together.

"The beaches there were completely breathtaking. So breathtaking, I wrote a song about them, right on the spot. I thought of a couple who'd met on that beach, who'd promised themselves to one another there, and years later, after being separated by war, they came back on that beach, to renew their love. Because that was just the sort of feeling that place gives you."

She kept her gaze fixed on the young woman's face, focusing. Appreciating, too, but mainly focusing. She was at the point where it was just a matter of focus, now, the point where the smallest twitch of her lips or sparkle in her eyes or softness in her voice was a sweet trumpet call of success, beautiful success heralding its arrival.

The bar was utterly quiet those few moments she gazed. Quiet all outside but not within either of the two women who kept their staring up. Yes, this one was falling prey to the spell already, Lily could tell. She had the look of intrigue on her, a prelude to the ensnaring. And preludes were always answered, Lily had found.

"That does sound wonderful," Gumi finally said, sighed. "It almost makes me wish I could get away from all this, just to see that sort of thing. Know what I mean? I love my home and all, I really do, but sometimes..."

"It's nothing," Lily said. "We all wonder what's beyond what we see, time to time."

"Is that why you left? Your home, I mean."

Lily kept her smile up. "Part of why."

"Ah," Gumi said.

"So, Gumi, tell me," Lily went on, not missing a beat, "have you been working here long?"

"Not especially long. Why d'you ask?"

"No real reason. It just occurred to me maybe you did something before you worked at this tavern."

"Something I did longer than this job, you mean?"

"Something like that, sure."

Gumi looked oddly nostalgic a moment. "Well, you're actually right. See, before this, I was—"

"Wait, let me guess," Lily cut in. She had a wide, almost prying grin on her face. "I'm real good at this, you know. You were a scholar, right? Something you had to be a student awhile for."

"Strike one," the other woman replied. "But I'll tell you you're not that far off."

"Ah, so we're playing it that way?" A chase—how swell. It was always more fun when the other kept up the dance's tempo. "All right then, fine by me. So, if you were never a scholar, then... an artist? Some kind of visual arts work, yeah?"

"Getting warmer." Gumi was grinning a little on her own, now, despite how much pressure Lily was keeping up. "But that still makes strike two."

"Damn," Lily said. She made sure to exude confidence even with the little swear, to have a kind of playfulness in her tone instead of show any actual frustration. "Well, if it's neither of those... Ah, why didn't I see it before?" She let her eyes lit up even more, gazing at the other woman with what she knew was the color of ice but the brightness of fire. "A _princess_. That's what you are, right? No doubt descended from the noblest of births. And don't even try telling me I struck out _this_ time."

Gumi laughed. "Guess it'd be more fun to leave it at that, wouldn't it?"

"What, you're telling me I'm _wrong_?" Lily asked, pouted. "But you've got it all over your face! Everywhere I've been, I can't say I've _ever_ seen a young lady better looking the part of royalty."

"Now you're just flattering me, aren't you?"

"It's the truth! Unless..." Lily hesitated, leaning in over the bar. "I don't suppose the story of the Lost Daughter made it all the way out here, did it?"

Gumi shook her head. "Can't say I ever heard it."

"It's a beautiful tale," Lily said. "I heard it all the time back home. See, legend has it that the king and queen had this lovely child, the fairest anyone in all the land had ever seen, but a cruel servant in their castle, jealous after her own daughter's untimely death, made a deal with the creatures of the woods to steal the child away. And the woodfolk, why, they found the idea so mischievous, they did it without charging the servant a penny. So they snatched up the king and queen's daughter in the dead of night, only to replace her with a pixie, disguised with a spell cast through the woodfolk's songs. People say that, to this day, that lost princess is out in the country somewhere, completely unaware of her true heritage, because the spell over the pixie also hides her own past from her."

"Is that right?" Gumi asked. She was leaning over the bar herself by now, grinning widely. "But there's a way to break that spell, right? That's how these stories always go."

"So of course there is," Lily replied. "See, the woodfolk's song has to be broken with another song. A song I've heard quite a few times from town to town." She looked deep in the other woman's eyes. They were fiery, receptive. Just how she wanted them to be. "Say—why don't I just play it now? Just for you?"

"You _couldn't_!" Gumi giggled. "I'm on my shift. The boss'd chew my head off if she saw that."

"What would you care? Suppose I break the spell. Suppose you remember your history and you go back to being a princess." Lily shook her head. "No, I put it wrong, 'going back.' Because, really, the way the story goes, you're a princess already, even if you don't realize it."

The woman with the green hair was still smiling, almost incredulously now. "I bet this is a story you tell to every girl you meet."

"Not at all. This is the first time I've ever told this legend to a pretty young lady, as a matter of fact."

Lily made sure to sound as sincere as possible. It wasn't hard, considering she was, in fact, telling the truth.

And the way Gumi's expression shifted showed she accepted it. Good. Another step forward.

"Well, I'm flattered," Gumi said. She sounded genuine. The alluring shape her smile took on certainly said as much. "But even so, you can't just play for me, not now. I'm serious—the boss'd give me an earful for that. Even if I reclaimed the throne or whatever, she'd make sure I got scolded."

"Shame," Lily said. "I'd always dreamed of giving that princess a private show." She took a long drought from her drink. "Then, I'll at least play a song just for you at the show tonight. I'm sure that'll work just as well. Right?"

Gumi giggled again. "Yes, it'd be wonderful. It's really sweet of you, to offer that."

"The least I can do, for a princess-to-be."

"Will you tell me which song it'll be?" Gumi asked.

"Oh, I couldn't do _that_," Lily said. " That'd take the fun out of it. You know, the surprise. The _magic_." She reached over the bar, gently laid her hand over Gumi's. "Trust me: you'll know once you hear it."

The other woman's breath caught a moment, visibly. A very good sign indeed.

"All right," she whispered. "I'll be watching."

* * *

When she was a few songs in later that night, Lily took a long moment to look out among the faces that'd gathered there to watch. The time was right. The rhythm had fallen into place, and she couldn't pull away now.

She found Gumi gazing up at her expectantly, alone at a table, not far from the bar's entrance. Lily sent her a grin that she knew would hit. But only briefly. She took special care to make it brief.

And then she played.

She played a song about two lovers who'd met by the sea and promised themselves to one another there. They'd barely known one another but the feelings they had swept them away, and all of a sudden they were certain they'd both found their other half. They were sure that they would meet there again one day. When the winds were right. It had to be there, at that beach, because anywhere else they were sure the magic would disappear.

The chords Lily plucked out were as lovely and simple as she could make them. And she sang with a voice she saved just for these elegant songs of love. A voice like a whispered confession to her own other half.

Wherever she was now.

It had to sound that way, if anything was going to happen with any of this. Even if both of the two involved could see the show behind it all.

As she finished, Lily took another slow, deliberate look into the audience. Gumi's chest rose and fell with a slow breath of admiration. Her eyes shone with glee.

Lily sent her the brief grin of before and continued with her performance.

* * *

Winning a woman over like this was something Lily always made sure to do from town to town. Aside from the obvious, it gave her a warm body to sleep next to. And, almost as importantly, a roof to sleep under.

But then again the obvious was so much a part of why Lily bothered at all. She loved the thrill of a good chase, but more than that, she loved embracing the reward of a chase won, tasting her prey's lips and skin and sweat and drawing out from her a lovely song of pleasure.

And Gumi gave her all that, and did it all so brilliantly. The way she melted from Lily's fingers pushing inwards still shook her, the way her mouth danced against her own still set her skin aflame.

She wasn't surprised, then, when she found herself staying one more day after that night. Gumi had that day off, and that was an opportunity Lily couldn't pass up.

"You really do make me wonder about things, you know," Gumi said, later on. She was under her covers, pulling the sheets up over her skin. Uncharacteristically shy, given what'd just gone on before.

Lily was stroking her hair, gently. "What sort of things?"

"I dunno. Things outside, I guess. I always lived just thinking that my future was here, where I grew up. And I never thought of much else. But, with everything you've told me about, I wonder if there isn't more, outside of this town."

"Of course there's more. There's a whole world out there."

Gumi giggled. "That's not what I mean. It's more like, I wonder if there isn't more out there for _me_. Because, you've found more, outside of where you grew up, right? That's why you're always on the go, isn't it?"

"I guess so. Can't say I've thought about it that way, really."

"You ought to, I think," Gumi said. "Because, that's how you're living. Even if the way you live is by moving around, you ought to find some time to sit down and see where you've been, right?"

"That's why I sing," Lily explained.

Sighing, Gumi snuggled in a little closer. "Yeah. That's what I would do, I think. If things were different."

* * *

She managed to have her bike's gas tank as close to full as she could remember it had ever been before she left Valka. And her pack had a decent weight to it now, too. That was always a lovely bonus.

"It's no trouble at all," the barkeep had said. "Really, you deserve it, the acts you gave. Be sure to swing by again if you're ever around, okay?"

Lily had just nodded, made sure not to complain about the cigarette any. Admired her cleavage one more time.

The last she saw of Gumi was her asleep. She'd left a note, explaining she'd gone. She couldn't say any more than that because even she didn't know any more than that.

It wouldn't be a problem, Lily reminded herself as she started the motor. The other woman knew how she lived. Admired it, even. And by now she'd got what she needed from this place, with no harm done.

Smiling to herself, Lily revved the bike. A screech of the wheels, and the wind was back, rushing through her hair.

The full pack served Lily well the next few days of travel. All the signs pointing to Wealcan started with horribly high numbers and took far too long to let those numbers lessen. She might have guessed that the riding would be this difficult, what with the long, dull plains the land was pitting her against.

Reaching the first telltale signs of civilization was practically worth a word of praise or two, even if the only signs were a few shabby cottages, barely speaking of even electricity. Clearly a wrong turn, somewhere, Lily thought to herself. Farming communities were never much good for her purposes. Never much money to go around.

Still, it was better than nothing.

She rode in, asked around for directions among the management. It was a blonde who was actually able to help her.

"A musician, huh?" The woman had her hair tied in a ponytail on just one side of her head. It bobbed up and down every time she titled her head up to look at Lily, always with a suspicious kind of glare. "Don't have much reason for a musician, here. Not exactly the kind of thing the Farmer's Guild can give expenses for. We have a tight management, you see. Can't afford every luxury."

So Lily explained her expenses, how low they were. That usually turned the tide. When it didn't with this woman, she explained instead the encouraging effects music tends to have. _Her_ music especially. What with its wonderful stories and all.

"It's hard to take you on your word alone, frankly," the manager said. Her ponytail bobbed up and down again. "But, the way I see it, I've got more to gain than to lose, keeping you around. How's about I give you the food up front, and the gas if your show does what you say it'll do? Sound fair?"

And Lily told her that it did. A much better deal than she expected to find here, riding in.

The manager motioned and led Lily back down some other dirt roads of the town, down past long stretches of fields where rice stretched up in enormous patches of soaked earth, past a tall windmill off in the distance with its blades slowly going round and round. Out in the fields were dozens of workers wearing thick, mud-soaked clothes and wide, sun-scorched hats.

One of the workers looked up at Lily and the manager as they passed. She had green hair and eyes shining with an oddly nostalgic glint.

Lily stopped in place, staring.

"Who's that?" she asked the manager.

"What?"

"I said, who's that? That worker, over there?"

The manager's hair bobbed again. "I can't give you any guild member's name just like _that_. Why do you want to know so bad?"

"Can I talk to her?" There was a kind of desperation in Lily's voice. It almost frightened her, to notice it.

"No, of course you can't. She's working."

"It's important."

"Doesn't matter. She's working. But whatever it is, I'm sure it can wait till tonight, can't it?"

Lily blinked. "Tonight?" The word sounded foreign all of a sudden. She retraced it from marks of today, now, morning, yesterday.

"Yes, tonight. She'll be at your show like everyone else, I figure. All the workers'll be glad for a break like this. We don't get your type out here all too often."

Time started ticking again. Lily felt awake all of a sudden, noticed the manager was moving and made to follow her. "No. I bet you don't, do you?"

* * *

She was there at the show that night, just like Lily'd been promised.

And she looked at her just before she played the song she'd been saving to play towards the end of the show. A song about a beach, and lovers who'd met at it. Once to promise, later to carry out.

The look that Lily gave her was the same look she'd given her before. She knew it was the same as before because of how long she'd practiced it, how often she'd felt the rewards of that practice.

It was just the same as with her songs. Songs she'd also practiced, and from that, too, she found rewards.

Only, the rewards that the songs gave her were necessities. Their only luxury was the applause, later on.

Though maybe what the look gave Lily, the look she got in return, was a kind of necessity, too. It was a different sort of applause, but maybe it was a luxury she couldn't live without.

And Lily could tell the look she'd given her that night had worked again. Because her chest rose and fell with a sudden breath of admiration. Her lips curved into a smile of unbridled joy.

Except it wasn't just of joy. There was surprise, too, in that smile. Thrilled amazement at a song never before heard.

Lily kept a smile of her own up and accepted the applause of the farmers as it washed over her.

* * *

"You looked like you had fun," Lily said to her once the show had ended.

She turned to Lily suddenly, caught off-guard.

"I did," she answered. "It's really amazing, to have someone like you come by. We don't get your type often here. I guess it's too small a place for most musicians."

"So, you don't... know me?"

The woman with the green hair blinked. "Why would I?"

"Sorry, I guess I'm just mistaking you for someone else," Lily said, raising as disarming a smile as possible. "What's your name, by the way?"

And the other woman smiled back. "Gumi," she answered.

Lily froze. All but her mouth seemed capable of movement.

"I don't suppose you have any family in any nearby towns?" she asked, reciting the words like a child might recite a multiplication table.

"No. Or, at least, I don't think so." The young woman—Gumi, apparently—frowned, an aloofness about her suddenly. "I don't really know much about my family, though. I only really knew my mother, and she... she's out of town by now. Couldn't tell you exactly where she ended up, though. She just went and ran off one day. Left me a note about how she couldn't take the Guild work anymore."

"I'm sorry," Lily said.

"It's nothing. The other people here were always plenty family for me, anyhow. Even if nobody besides her could teach me more about singing, but I guess that's okay." Gumi—yes, Gumi, clearly—stared with a bit more intensity all of a sudden, with interest. "You know, I really do mean that you were great. Like, _really_ great. Maybe it's just because the only music I hear is over the radio, but I had so much fun tonight."

"Ah," Lily said. "Well, I'm glad."

"And, I noticed, by the way," Gumi went on. And now she was smirking—faintly, but still, distinct. "The way you looked at me. During that one song."

"I hoped you would," Lily said, truthfully.

"It was a lovely song, too. Where'd you come by it?"

And then Lily smirked. "Well, back home, there was this beach I'd always go to..."

* * *

The game Lily played was a curious one, apparently, just from the fact that she would always go after women. She never saw any reason to do otherwise, even though the outside seemed to find something odd about it.

She didn't like that way of putting it. It wasn't normal, maybe. But "odd" was too strong a word for Lily's tastes. What she did felt wholly natural. Natural was never odd.

Gumi told her, as Lily undressed her, that this was the first time she'd been with a woman. She could tell she hadn't been with a man either, though. The ones used to men were easy to pick out.

But she drank in them all regardless. She wanted every flavor of lips, sweat, heat, flesh, imaginable. She wanted to dive over and over into this highest pleasure that the moment could bring her, not only for the elation the diving gave her but for the simple sake of having dove. And she wanted to know as many ways to dive and pools to swim in as she could.

And Gumi had her own flavor, as odd as she found it. She had her own taste, her own way of clenching Lily's fingers and embracing her tongue that was different from the way that she remembered the other young woman named Gumi having.

But her body was the same. Same shapely legs, same luscious curves, same ample chest. Beautifully, disappointingly the same.

Lily found herself paying a great deal of attention to the song she drew out from her, her elated murmurs. It was hard to tell for certain how different they were. _If_ they were different.

She fell asleep not long after Lily finished. There was a certain grace she had, in that state of peace. Her chest rose and fell with a breath of innocence. An almost nostalgic innocence.

It was all Lily could do not to brush the green hair aside, to kiss her on the forehead.

That would surely have been too much. For both of them.

She turned over, away from the unconscious angel. The moment had passed, and the attachment was in the void of behind. But still the feeling wouldn't subside.

Lily clenched her eyes shut and clung to her pillow, to escape it. And in the end, sleep came. Just with more difficulty than she expected.

* * *

The manager held up her end of the deal in full the next day, and that left Lily little reason to stick around in Wealcan. Staying longer was too much of a risk. And she was lucky to be making out with what bits and pieces she was getting now.

So she drove off bright and early, the same time all the farmers were up. The manager offered directions to other towns. Lily declined. No point in taking the surprise away, after all.

"Fine. It's your gamble to make, I guess," the manager had replied. Her hair bobbed up and down as she spoke, but Lily couldn't see why. It wasn't as if she was about to get upset over _her_ gambles.

She had half a thought to say a goodbye to Gumi, as she was starting up the motor. That was odd. Normally, goodbyes were against the rules. Which was to say they were too artificial to bother with.

Lily didn't think too much on the impulse. And sure enough, it ended up leaving her alone.

Only, as she sped on out from the village, she found herself wondering what another day there, with Gumi, would have given. Even with the sameness, the girl had something so individual about her, about the way she danced and reacted and moaned. Even compared to the girl of two towns back.

And the thoughts of another day slowly turned into a thought of an entire week. And then the week into a month. Lily smothered the pondering there—it was beginning to feel as if she were saying a goodbye anyhow, despite what she'd so deliberately avoided.

She turned her thoughts instead to her surroundings, to how they could aid in her music. Her mind only stayed fixed there once she was finally out of the village.

She picked up a bit more speed and kicked up dust from the last bit of dirt road. The wind was whipping her in the face as she went.

* * *

The mere sight of Calanew's line of buildings off in the distance made Lily heave with a sigh of relief inside. Two hours before she hadn't even known there was such a place as Calanew, but now she was impossibly grateful for its establishment.

The height of those buildings, the paved roads she found herself driving along spoke of wealth, loudly. More than that, they promised variety, excitement, something beyond playing to a workhouse full of farmers. She felt beside herself. Like the journey had started over again.

It was an excitement so strong she could still taste it even after what must have been the twelfth bar in a row told her she couldn't have a gig there.

"Sorry, but we're already booked."

"With a guitar like that? Don't think so, miss. Try someplace more run down, why don't you?"

"We _would_ hire you, but see, you're a little too—how do I put it—_old-fashioned_ for what we're going for around here. You'll only drive our regulars away."

Lily had to admit it all stung a little, if only because rejection was always something that came uninvited. No matter. She'd bring in the proper guests soon enough.

Once she'd run out of bars she worked her way towards the center of town. It wasn't hard to find. Standing near the center was a tall clock tower you could see from even the city's outskirts. Atop each of the four corners at its summit was a colorful flag blowing in the wind. They made the otherwise drab Gothic structure stand out a little more.

The foot traffic was decent around here. Lily got out her guitar and left the open case in front of her.

The musician's last resort: make a walkway your stage and passersby your patrons.

She never much liked having to turn to this. Though not so much because of the heightened risk involved, or even because of how public it made her. It was more because of how unnatural it felt to seek out this kind of attention, to try shaking down every person she saw for spare change through song. It was too involved a process, too demanding. The ideal had always been to just let people go whatever way they wanted.

And this—this felt like interference. Like damming a river or clearing a forest.

But it still didn't disappoint her to see a healthy chunk of change start accumulating in that open case. At least her playing, her interference would warrant a meal later tonight.

"You're really managing to clean up out here. I'm impressed."

The voice snagged Lily up from the pile of coins and bills and out of thoughts over what to play next. But there was more to the snagging than just surprise. It was the familiarity that did it, mainly, the sense that it was a voice she knew.

And so it shouldn't have surprised Lily as much as it did to see her. The green hair, the sparkling eyes. The smile with a nostalgic kind of warmth, yet here showing the slightest edge of an appreciation that only ever came from mutual understanding of an art.

Also, the generous chest. Lily noticed that, too.

"Thank you," Lily answered, hesitantly.

"You oughta feel proud, getting as much attention as you are," the young woman said. "With all the music that gets played here, it really means something if people think you're worth stopping for. I don't think you could call most anyone here 'easily impressed,' you know?"

"Yeah, sure," Lily responded. She could practically feel her eyes bugging out and she wondered why the other woman wasn't bothering to make anything of it.

"So, are you just passing through, or what? And yeah, I can tell you're not from here. If you were, you probably wouldn't be trying to play in the main square, for one thing. Like, you'd figure nobody would stop and listen, you know? Because of what I said earlier and all."

"Well, you should know, shouldn't you?" Lily said after a moment. "About if I'm 'just passing through.' You should know."

The smile on the other woman faded. "I should? What do you mean?"

"...Of course," Lily said. She wondered to herself why she was trying to make sense of this in some normal way, when what was going on was as far from normal as she'd ever seen. "Yeah, you don't know me, do you? Just like before."

"What are you—"

"Sorry," she cut in. "I... had a strange thought, that's all. Thought you looked like someone I'd met before, that maybe you happened to end up where I'd ended up. That's all."

"Ah," the young woman said. She looked relieved. "So, you _are_ just passing through, then?"

"That's sort of the plan." Lily felt relieved, too, at this return to normalcy. Even though the back of her head told her something was still wrong. "Why?"

"Because, as a matter of fact, I was hoping you'd be interested in something that'd pay a little better than this kind of public gig," she went on. "See, me and a partner run this cafe not too far from here, and I was thinking maybe you could play a show or two there, if you like. Can't say it'll pay all that much, but it's bound to be more than what you could get out on the streets."

"Just the sort of thing I was looking for," Lily said. "I can't promise I'd stay for long, but I'll be glad to have the gig."

The smile the woman first had returned. "Sounds great! Can I show you the way?"

Lily nodded, packed up her gear. The woman with the green hair started to lead her out of the square, away from the clock tower and its fluttering flags.

"My name's Lily, by the way," she offered as she went.

And the other woman shot a cheery glance back at her. "Gumi. Nice to meet you."

* * *

Gumi's place looked like it'd offer an audience bigger than what Lily expected from the description she was given. Though she could still count all the tables inside on both her hands, it was easily the largest cafe she'd ever seen.

She made a passing mention of this as she followed Gumi inside.

"Not sure how many that means you've actually seen, then," Gumi giggled. "But thanks anyhow. Rin said it was too much of an expense getting a place this big, but I'm still sure it'll balance out in the end."

"Rin?"

"That partner I mentioned earlier. She's probably in the back right now, doing paperwork—we don't open till late today, you see. There was never enough of a crowd to spend the extra money on the electricity."

Lily surveyed the homey space. It couldn't have cost that much more to heat and light it, she figured. But then again it wasn't her shop here, or her town.

"So I take it you think I'll bring in some more folk if I play," Lily said.

"I sure doubt you'll drive any _away_, anyhow," Gumi said, chuckling a little. "I think you have just the sort of song that can liven up this place some—you know, give it some more brightness, more _vivacity_. If nothing else, you can make it feel a bit more like how I think it _should_ feel, you know?"

"I'm flattered," Lily said, grinning. She grabbed a chair and sat towards the far end of the room, the best stage she could sort out. "Say—how's about you and I see just how much brighter I can make this place? Just the two of us."

"What, you mean you want to play something?"

"That's what you said this shop needed."

"Well, in that case, it depends," Gumi said. "You gonna charge me extra for this?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Lily replied. She got her guitar out, checked the tuning a moment. "I never charge extra for private shows."

"Seems like an odd way of doing things, if you ask me."

"It's not a hassle. I only ever _give_ private shows when I know I've found someone special."

Gumi shook her head, smiling. "You've barely been with me half an hour."

Lily gave her back a sly grin. "Funny. Feels like it must've been longer."

She plucked out a few slow notes of a major chord and sang a song about a young merchant who was followed by a rainstorm wherever he went, so long as he was without the affections of a woman he'd met in a town on his route. He bemoaned again and again how cruel it was that all his riches couldn't save him from the curse of the rains or of his own unrequited love.

The applause Gumi gave when the song was finished was breathtakingly enthusiastic. She was grinning ear to ear and her eyes sparkled like gems in the sun.

"Yes! That's _just_ what would sound wonderful here!"

"It's nothing," Lily said. "Just something I picked up a few towns away from here."

"But that's just why it works: because it's such a _journey_. It brings the world outside in here, makes this place feel more like a home. Don't you think?"

"Sure," Lily replied. "That's exactly what I think."

"So, how's about just one more?" Gumi asked, still ecstatic. "You know, something else you 'picked up' wherever you were going through?"

Obliging, Lily grinned again. "Well, this next one's about a woman whose lover gets lost in the mountains..."

* * *

Her playing did end up bringing people in, Lily was told. Not a huge crowd, but still more than either Gumi or Rin expected to see. That was heartening. Meant she'd be getting pay _and_ appreciation.

It was enough to win even Rin over, something surprising considering she was less than thrilled with the unannounced arrival of a hired musician. She had a kind of fire in her eyes that Lily assumed was just because of her particular animosity, but she discovered soon enough the burning quality of her gaze was more or less inherent.

It'd been quite a long time since Lily had been with a woman who had that kind of ferocity about her. Thoughts of what a clash with her would surely be like were almost enough to make Lily change course.

As she thought more of it, she really _ought_ to have been changing course. The green-haired woman named Gumi was so like the ones in the past, in those towns sleeping in the void of yesterday, of memory. Different, maybe, but still alike.

And that "alike" should have been enough to make Lily stop this chase, focus on the promise of novelty.

Should have. Only it wasn't. Somehow the need for that familiar yet altered path was still there.

So she didn't question the need or the impulses alongside it. They were all natural, all genuine. That was enough.

As she played that night, Lily made sure to give that look again, as she played some pretty love song she kept in every show. Gumi was watching intently, her chest rising and falling with the breath of admiration.

Just like Lily knew would happen.

After the show, it wasn't long until all the audience had gone, until she could close in and make the dance official.

She greeted her with a grin, an anticipation of flattery. The usual.

And of course the woman with the green hair held up her end of the routine.

"You really were something up there," she said. "Just, all the _life_ you gave to this place, all the _experience_. It's as if you carry the whole world on your back, all stuffed up in that guitar case. It's like magic."

"That's why I play music in the first place," Lily replied. "Because it really _is_ magic. In a moment it can tell a place, a story, a feeling, and all of it's recited like a spell."

"A spell," Gumi repeated, the word captivating her a moment. All a part of the expected movements, Lily was sure. "Yes. It really is just like a spell, I think. Like what brings back a lost memory or wakes up the sleeping princess."

Lily swallowed, worked to hide the discomposure washing over her. "Yeah. Just like that."

"Hey, would you do something for me?" Gumi asked, perking up. She plopped down in a chair, rested her arms and chin on top of its back.

"Depends on how much you want it," Lily said.

"Oh, don't worry, this is something I want _a lot_," Gumi said, slyly. "If you don't mind... would you play one more song? Just for me?"

Lily grinned. "So you were paying attention to that offer after all."

"I just want to hear more, is all," Gumi said, resting her cheek on her arm. "I want to hear more of what you've seen out there. More of what you felt about it all, and what everybody you met felt."

"That's a pretty tall order."

"Well, that can all come later," she giggled out. "But, just one song, for now? Pretty please?"

"Well, I could never say no to a face like that," Lily purred out.

She readied her guitar, took a moment to think of a song. Only one came to mind, no matter how much she tried sorting through all the ones she knew.

She almost wanted that to worry her, to feel as if there was something wrong with taking this next step. But it didn't. Not in the slightest.

So she braced herself to tempt fate. No matter. It was what felt right.

She strummed a few opening chords and started singing about a couple who first met on a beach.

She found herself lost in the notes she strummed, sang, far more than normal. The strange, captivating melody had left her as spellbound as the green-haired woman she caught mere glances of as she ran her hand up and down her guitar's neck.

What she was always most aware of from her own playing was the same verse and melody the song kept coming back to, a part that went like this:

_On these shores, my love,  
Only you and I,  
By the em'rald seas that  
Endlessly roam,  
With the winds above  
Born from the lonely sky,  
In each other's arms  
We'll surely find home._

How long the song ended up running, she couldn't tell. The stars, the moon were all the same, shining in from the cafe's windows. The wind rustled the leaves of trees lining the streets.

"Beautiful," Gumi whispered, when the silence returned. "Just, beautiful. I can't believe no one else in this town got to you first. You've got so much talent, Lily. Really."

"It's nothing," Lily answered. "Just a song from back home."

"I can't believe I've never heard it before," Gumi said. "It's just so mesmerizing. Like feeling the sea breeze for the first time, I think."

Smiling a soft smile, Lily set her guitar aside, laid a hand on the other woman's arm. "I knew you'd like it. It's the song that best suits you."

"Best... suits me?" Gumi asked. Her eyes stared deep into Lily's own, entranced, as if by something she could see just past their surface.

"Exactly. Because it's the most lovely song I know." Lily brushed a hand through the other woman's green, silky hair. "The most enchanting."

"Like magic," Gumi murmured.

"Right. Like magic."

Her breath grew slow, and Lily let it rise and fall a few times, soft and rhythmic against the still of the newly-fallen night. Slowly, she leaned in, brought the other woman upright as she embraced her. Their lips met and she could feel Gumi start to tremble, slightly, like a scale waiting to be tipped. The taste was sweet, almost nostalgic.

She let a long moment pass pressed against those lips until she separated, started to close in again. In another moment she felt herself come to a stop partway, the touch of Gumi's hands suddenly hard against her shoulders.

"If... you need a place to sleep," she said, "you can use the office here."

Lily blinked, stood up straight. "Oh. Well, all right. That sounds fine."

"I don't have a spare bed, is all. You'd... probably be more comfortable here, I think. Here there's a couch, at least."

"Right. No, I understand."

"Good," Gumi said. She glanced up a moment, showing Lily the almost apologetic dullness in her eyes now. "You're free to play here tomorrow night too, if you want. I'll pay again."

"I didn't really have any other plans," Lily said.

The woman with the green hair nodded, understanding, considering. She gave a word of goodbye, turned, and left the shop.

Lily answered the farewell with a wave, gathered her guitar case and set up camp in the small office nearby. Against everything else, she dearly craved a few hours' sleep.

The realization of what that craving was almost left her uncomfortable:

Sleep.

Not movement.

And, rested on the small office's small couch, the not-movement found her, assaulted her with dreams of towns she couldn't remember.

* * *

A/N: Hey hey, guess who's not dead after all?

I'd originally planned this as a one-shot, but it ended up far longer than expected and I figured it best to split it into two parts. Expect the follow-up sometime next week.

Also, a big thank you to Genki Collective for her tremendous help with the title for this story, as well as for suffering through all the silliness that I kept suggesting. Not to mention for her tireless and supremely helpful beta work.


	2. Part Two

There was a lot more to like about Calanew than Lily had first bothered to consider. Just around the clock tower at the center square were dozens of other street performers singing songs she'd never heard, acting out stage routines she'd never seen. The sprawling stores in the area selling clothes or jewelry or flashy knick-knacks for the home were expansive enough for Lily to find herself lost for hours just browsing through them, admiring all the curious decorations they had on display.

There was food around, too, fascinating in taste and variety. Lily decided it was safe to splurge a little and found a pleasant-looking restaurant later on, even convinced Gumi to tag along.

Lily paid for both orders. "To make up for the other night," she explained. And she insisted, even under slight protest.

Despite the protesting it made Gumi look strangely touched, appreciative.

"I hope you weren't offended by that or anything," she said. "It's not really that you... well, that you have a problem or anything. It's just more that, I don't know, moving that fast is a little... scary."

"No, I understand," Lily said, lying—bending the truth, to be charitable.

"There's still no problem with you playing again tonight. If you're not planning on heading out, that is."

Surprisingly, Lily had to think a moment. And when the moment passed, some pulse of heat inside her managed to overpower the answer she knew instinct would have given.

"I think I'll probably stick around a little longer," she replied, "so sure, that sounds great. I've still got a few more numbers to play, anyhow."

"How much longer is 'a little longer'?" Gumi asked.

"Not sure. A couple days, maybe a week, tops. I have to admit, I like it here."

"All the places you must've been to and you pick here? I feel like I should be flattered."

"Maybe you should be," Lily said with a wink.

Gumi giggled. "I wish Rin could see you like this. It'd help her warm up to you a bit more."

"You could just tell her yourself. You're friends, aren't you?"

"Yeah, since we were kids," Gumi answered. She hesitated. "Then, well..."

"Then, what?"

"Then... we became a little more. Just for a little while." She let out a long breath, wearing a small, masking smile. "Sorry. I know that probably isn't anything strange, to you, but it's still a little embarrassing for me to bring up."

"No, it's all right," Lily said. The thought stirred her more than a little. Gumi _and_ Rin. How captivating. She considered that they'd been lovers already, so maybe, if she played her cards right...

She stopped herself. That was overshooting it. Probably.

"Except, if you were _together_," Lily went on, "how'd you come to be in business together? That'd make things harder, wouldn't it?"

"It wasn't like that," Gumi said. "There weren't any fights, neither of us was unfaithful or anything. It was more that there wasn't any real spark to any of it. So one day we sat down, decided maybe this was just because we were still too young, and agreed things were better when we were just friends."

"And, that's how you still feel?"

"Of course. What, you're not jealous all of a sudden, are you?"

"No, not at all," Lily answered. "Just wanted to make sure. That's all."

Gumi nodded. "All right. Well, good then."

"So, how'd this whole cafe thing come up?" Lily asked, changing the subject.

"It was Rin's idea, once we'd gone back to normal," Gumi explained. "Before that, well... I wanted to be a singer, actually." She sighed. "_Really_ wanted to be. But with the competition being what it is in this town, it started to seem clear to me I couldn't make it. So Rin and I figured we should do something a bit more practical."

"And that was the cafe."

"Sure," Gumi said. "But I don't regret it. Especially now that we've finally got music to fill the place with."

Lily smiled, gave a little shrug. "No problem. I'm just glad I could make things turn out that way."

"So am I," Gumi replied, grinning herself now.

Eventually their food came. Gumi gulped hers down in what seemed a few bites while Lily ended up taking a whole lot longer. If only because the woman with the green hair had her tell more and more stories of other towns during the meal, and Lily wasn't about to talk with her mouth full. That was always bad form in front of a pretty girl.

She talked mainly about one town she'd found that had a sophisticated system to draw water out from the ground, to help with its long drought seasons. All the buildings there had raised doorsteps to help keep sand out, though they weren't much help when it got windy.

Lily couldn't go all that into detail about the place, though. She left fairly early on, since the money there was so bad.

"Droughts tend to leave places like that," Lily explained.

"But there were still a lot of people there, right?" Gumi asked.

"Don't know about 'a lot.' But a good number, at least."

"Couldn't they just leave for somewhere better, then? Someplace without so long a dry season?"

Lily shrugged. "It's their home. If I've learned one thing about people, it's that they get pretty attached to where their home is. For better or worse."

"I guess so," Gumi said, tilting her head in comprehension.

Lily smiled and finally cleared the rest of her plate. "Best meal I've had in some time," she said.

"For the food, or the company?" Gumi said, grinning.

"Both," Lily said. "But mainly the latter, I admit."

Gumi chuckled. "It's funny you took me here, though."

"How's that?"

She leaned in over the table, lowering her voice. "Truth be told, this is probably the most mediocre restaurant in town."

* * *

It was hard to remember the last time that she'd played on the same stage more than once. But she found it strangely enjoyable, in a way. Like thinking you'd drunk all of a particularly good bottle of wine only to discover there was actually another half still left.

And just like the other night, the audience was still fairly large, still receptive. Lily found herself becoming strangely attuned to all of them, their own mood and energy and rhythm. It made it easier to know what to play and, maybe more importantly, how to play it.

It was as if the world around her was being channeled through her fingers and her voice, as if the murmurs of the patrons and the rustling wind outside were all secretly a part of every song, set pieces thrown in by some other force that Lily strangely couldn't find reason to protest influencing her performance.

She still found moments to sneak out glances reserved for the woman with the green hair, when she could. She made those looks give off a kind of friendliness and gratitude more than the usual demeanor. Never anything too intense or too often—only simple, wordless exchanges to show that that song, this song, was meant for her, was meant to give her the sort of feeling to fill this room that she always wanted.

She knew to do it and knew what it meant entirely because the moment told her so. And she let herself do it because, yes, it _did_ feel natural, even if it felt like giving in to something else.

But the giving in felt liberating. She didn't know why, but it just did.

And for once, the fact that _it just did_ wasn't enough. The elated grin of the woman with the green hair, the knowing how _she_ caused that grin that set her soaring on the inside, wasn't enough to shake off the sensation of being lost, horribly lost in some maze she couldn't remember entering.

Lost. That didn't make sense, either.

She was never lost. That was a rule: she wandered but was never lost.

Applause overpowered the fading echoes of her guitar, the rustling of the wind. Lily wondered how late she was going to let this thing run.

* * *

The sunrises in Calanew were beautiful, somehow more beautiful than others Lily could remember seeing. It was something about the way the light started to fall over the clusters of buildings and how their subtly different heights let the shadows grow over one another's walls, the way the colors of the sky offset the town's pleasantly monochromatic range of whites and light grays.

She was watching them with Gumi, by the fourth day. The sun always came up well before the shop opened, but it turned out she was an early riser, too. And so after Lily happened to bump into her on her way out Gumi decided to use the preparation time on this instead.

She showed her the way up to the top of the nearby inn, where the view was better, and even after Lily had learned the way, she would still let the other woman take her hand and lead her there. Neither would say anything as they sat and waited, watched. The need never seemed to come up.

During the day Lily started working in the kitchen some, after the stores and public spaces had lost their novelty. She knew that she'd need something to do, was all. And she didn't mind the extra bits of cash, either.

She got to know Rin a little better through that, broke the ice some with her. Even when she was sure she'd won her over she didn't lose that glint of ferocity in her eyes. Lily didn't mind. Admired it, even.

She didn't play every evening, but even the days without music people would come, filling the place with their own soft music of chatter and whispers and laughter. Even if Lily wasn't a part of any of it, there was something warm and close about it all. Maybe it was just the smile she knew it was giving Gumi.

Gumi turned out to be right about the food, too. She showed Lily better restaurants, some of the best meals she could ever remember having. She told the woman with the green hair that every time, and despite the giggling saying so always got out of her, every time she meant it.

A few times they went out to see the other shows that went up at other places. It was refreshing, somehow, to hear music coming from someplace other than a radio, her own guitar. Every night there was always so much variety it was hard to choose where to stop in.

"It's always like this," Gumi had explained. "We're just about the last stop in this part of the country where music isn't regulated so much, after all. After here it gets tough for someone like you, all the way until you're past the mountains. That's why I never thought of going anyplace else, before the cafe."

Lily shuddered a little at the thought of that. Even though her better senses told her it was nothing to be afraid of. Regulations were always a necessary evil when passing through towns, when in the organs instead of going along the veins. Anything Gumi could tell her about wouldn't be anything too far from the structures she already had to deal with, she was sure. And she was smart enough to realize getting upset wouldn't help anything.

Though, somehow, being close to Gumi helped her feel calm, too.

Every night she still slept at the cafe, in the office, on the sofa. Gumi offered on occasion to set her up somewhere else, but Lily always turned her down. There was no reason to go to any trouble on her account.

After all, she'd be leaving soon.

She laid back on that sofa one night and thought about the word. _Soon_. Yes, she would have to leave _soon_. That was just how she lived. No helping it now.

Soon. A little longer. She couldn't say how much either was. But she could feel it, could comprehend it as its shape and size contorted in her head. "Soon" was tomorrow, and then the day after, and then the day after.

Sleep was finding her, now, again she was seeking it out from this same old couch in the same small office. She wondered about "soon," why it even had to exist. Why she followed the word so intently wasn't so clear all of a sudden, why it had to be in charge of staying and going with its capricious dictums.

She shook the thoughts off. Of course there had to be a "soon," she reminded herself, because without a "soon" the horizon would end and the wind would stop moving. Without a "soon" there wouldn't be any more motion and she wouldn't sing any new songs.

Finally she felt herself drifting off completely, somehow escaping all these thoughts.

There had to be a "soon" because without it she could find herself planted, stuck. Like before.

Without a "soon," it would matter when it all gets taken away.

* * *

"I still can't believe they made us wait like that," Gumi said as she walked alongside Lily. They weren't far from the last restaurant, near the clock tower and its waving flags. "Normally they're really quick, you know. Nothing like what you saw tonight."

"Don't worry about it. I still had a good time."

"I'm glad," Gumi giggled out.

They walked in silence a little while. It occurred to Lily that they weren't heading towards the cafe, as would have been usual.

Lily asked about that. And the woman with the green hair giggled a little more in response.

"I guess we aren't," she said.

"Gumi, are you okay? You didn't have too much tonight, did you?"

"No." She shook her head purposefully, coming to a stop as they were coming out of an alleyway. "No, Lily, that's not it. You have to know this isn't just alcohol talking. It's me, all me."

Lily stopped beside her. She reached out a hand towards the other woman, but hesitated a moment.

"I'm really glad you came here, Lily," Gumi whispered. She caught Lily's indecisive hand, gently clutched it. "Really, truly glad. You make me feel like the whole world is spreading out right before my eyes, just from being you. And I never realized how badly I wanted that until I first heard you sing."

She was staring into Lily's eyes now, deeply. Somehow Lily found it difficult to keep the gaze met.

"What does that mean?" Lily asked. "Are you saying-"

"I am," Gumi said. "I'm saying that I want you, Lily. I want you so bad."

The warmth of her breath came close. Close enough to shut out thought, to envelop everything else in the simplicity that was impulse and the moment itself.

So Lily closed the gap between them again.

Her lips tasted sweeter than anything she could remember.

* * *

They'd hurried up to and past the door to Gumi's cramped house, slammed it shut with an echo that clapped out through the night like a gunshot. And they tasted so much of one another right then and there as each pulled the other in her parallel direction. The touch of cloth melting into the soft heat of skin, the stone of the foyer into the cushioning of the mattress. And all those steps of leaning and groaning and clinging in between, so easily forgotten yet so vital to the whole of the thing. Like the chord bridging the verse to refrain.

Life burning bright coursed into Lily from every touch Gumi met her with, from every taste of her voice, every drop of her applause. Yet it was applause becoming mutual, intertwined, something flowing into and indistinct from the song itself. The woman with the green hair yielded only moment to moment, only when it seemed to suit her as she paused for breath. And apart from those pauses she carried herself with the same furor and instinct Lily let guide her own movements and her own mind, she pressed against and met alongside pulling and lying still to receive. The room spun with the scent of salt, pleasure. And the night within and without was the other woman and the skin she clung to, the lips and tongue and hands that she rocked herself against.

She whispered something as sleep finally came over her, still holding herself against Lily so tightly. Lily didn't hear it. But then, she didn't have to. The damage was already done.

And she knew why.

Closeness. It was always closeness. Lingering on and on, roots too deep in the ground. Like burns from an old fire that still marred the landscape.

She was careful about slipping out of the other woman's grip, made sure not to wake her. And she was quiet about getting back outside, about leaving the note on the bedside table.

But of course she didn't have to be quiet about fetching her guitar and knapsack or starting up the bike. Gumi was already gone by then, had to be gone. And once Calanew was behind her, it was gone too.

Like neither had ever existed in the first place.

Yet somehow, as she drove off under the night sky, whipped by the wind, a bit of the night before came back to her. All the touch, the ways the both of them had met. And then the note. How sudden, crude it was, despite how right it felt in the horrid majesty of the moment that had composed it.

Between the two, the note was easier to remember, in content. Because the note was only two words, still burning bright in her head:

_I'm sorry._

* * *

"I'm not all too sure if we can fit you in here today, to be completely honest. Much as I'd like having your sort around, well, suffice to say I've got promises to keep."

Lily nodded, somewhat demurely, against her better senses. There was something in the way this manager held himself that made her think overt humility would be appreciated. He'd been walking her through this theater with a clear poise of ownership, led her with typically detestable authority onto the stage where she'd auditioned.

But it was hardly authority worth making a stand against, she more than realized.

"So tell you what: I'll fit you into a show that's going up tomorrow. Now, you'd just be the starting piece for the main act, mind, but it'd still be a paying deal."

"That sounds fine," Lily said. More than fine, really. Most anything would do after all the travel of the past couple of days, over all the winding roads forgotten about by all but the most devoted town-to-town merchants. The dry, dusty ruggedness to all that landscape was maybe worse than the hunger that'd cropped up partway through the journey, a hunger the findings in her knapsack hadn't sated.

It was such a breath of fresh air to find this concert hall lying in this closest stop she could find. Especially considering no other place in town seemed the slightest bit interested in her services. They all turned her away like she was offering them a designer list of poisons. At least they'd all had the courtesy to point her here.

"Good, then," the manager said. "Just come back tomorrow morning and we'll get you all set up."

"Get who all set up? Someone new?"

Lily felt herself jump at the calling, more at the tune the words carried than the words themselves, the simple fact that they were new.

But, no. They weren't entirely new.

"It's just someone I hired for tomorrow, that's all," the manager called to the woman with the short-cut, green hair as she came out past the curtains.

"So _another_ new one," she said, smiling, walking toward Lily. "But, that's fine by me. Keeps me busy, you know?"

"If you're not done cataloging all the performers, would you mind not trying to chat 'em up? It's not exactly helping you land a spot on stage."

"But I _am_ done!" she protested. "Though, I guess I'd need to start on you, right?"

"Start on me?" Lily repeated, dumbfounded.

"You know, do a little interview, that kind of thing. It's just something we need to go through real quick, to help document how you were paid here for music and not somewhere else. See, this theater is officially sanctioned to hire musicians, but only so long as we have verifiable records of the exact transactions going on. But trust me, it's not so bad—I've been through it once or twice myself."

Lily stood, stared. Something had snapped, collapsed inside, only she wasn't sure what, or the contents it'd spilled over.

"I'm... Lily," she finally said. "And, you're...?"

"Gumi," the other woman answered. "So, you wanna maybe meet back here tonight? Just so I could get all your information recorded, I mean. You know, make this all official."

Whatever had broken hadn't spontaneously been fixed. The break spread, burst into flames that tore at her stomach, her lungs. She could feel the reverberations of the shattering in her throat even before she tried to speak.

"Maybe this isn't the best idea for me after all," she said.

The woman with the green hair looked perplexed, distraught. "What do you mean?"

"Sorry. There's just too much tied up in here for me."

She turned around and dashed out, ignored the protests of the manager all the way towards and past the door. It wasn't hard. That wasn't the part that was stinging her eyes, choking her from the inside out.

Even as she started up the bike, she couldn't completely fight off the young woman's expression. The hurt confusion of it tore through her like an icy gale. So lost. So fragile. She wondered if this one ever wore that face when waking up, when reading.

She sped off, kicking up dust as the town was left in the void of behind. The momentum helped to offset the aching in her stomach, which helped to offset the sensation it was caving in on itself.

What perfect balance.

* * *

Lily started to feel it necessary to sneak into the towns she'd stop at. That wasn't the hard part. Learning it came easy enough, after the first couple tries or so. It was more the principle of the thing. There never should have been a need for a low profile in the first place: she was _there_, existing as herself, just like the town and its people were. Let any come who will. No matter who it was, they couldn't take the path she was forging away from her.

But then, there was one who could. Worse than that, one who could tempt her into _wanting_ it.

That was more in the back of her mind as she kept going, though. Lily didn't worry about seeing her, exactly. It was just she was taking precautions to make sure she wouldn't. The difference was that she was reacting instead of letting the uncontrollable rule her.

Only, it didn't make sense _why_ it was uncontrollable. Every time Lily saw her, even glimpsed her without her knowing, there was a resurgence of some kind inside. But it wasn't always painful. Sometimes there was nostalgic joy, or a blank sense of distance, or warm familiarity, or crushing doubt.

Though really any of those was just as bad. They all cut just as deep as the sadness, the guilt.

The problem wasn't so much those resurgences as what they represented. Because what they represented was a giving in to something beyond the moment, beyond what was truly natural. It had always been so simple: movement was natural, because it was freest, because it was the only thing that could keep chains from sprouting up and taking on a life of their own, from pulling her down into some dungeon of another's making. And pleasure was natural, because it was what made the movement worth doing in the first place.

So what was unnatural was standing still too long. What was unnatural was giving in, giving up. Because giving in to something meant stopping your own movement when you didn't have to. Because giving up something meant forfeiting a part of yourself when you didn't have to.

And every time Lily saw that face, she realized, every time she heard that voice or stroked that hair, there was a part of herself she was tempted to give away to her.

Just like before she'd traveled in the first place.

But there was a difference between giving something up and giving something away, because when you gave something away it's not really gone—it's just not _yours_. Giving something up meant letting what was yours become something gone. And the problem with giving something away was that there was no guarantee it wouldn't turn into something you gave up.

That was the risk Lily wouldn't take, maybe the only risk she wouldn't take.

Because she already knew it was the one gamble she couldn't win.

* * *

Once she left Awnalec, she'd be right at the mountains.

Lily'd been warned of that over and over, but none of it bothered her. They were just mountains, and it was still the warm season. Not that she would have stayed in town if it had been cold instead.

It was lucky that she managed to gather up a bit more spare change in Awnalec, though. She was running low on food and she didn't need another half dozen yokels' advice to know she'd need an abundance of supplies going through a mountain pass.

The only place she even tried finding work at was the small concert hall they had in the town's center. She'd learned better than to ask anywhere else by then.

She left for the mountains at the crack of dawn and kept riding even once the rain started, brought the fog with it. It was just rain. And her motorcycle's light pierced through it all fine enough. Nothing to stop moving forward for. Nothing that could take her will, her freedom from her.

But it poured and poured despite her will. The dust she would have kicked up before was mud now, the uphill climb took even more diligence to manage. Wind kicked at her shoulders and spat the icy rain in her face as the bike's tires swerved and wobbled at their frantic pace. The edges of the road lurked all around her, specters in the fog that sought to drag her back to earth.

So Lily revved and revved, turned and leaned in response. And she climbed higher and higher, past the turns and the swerves in the mountains' roads as the peaks drew nearer. She could almost see them by now. She could almost glimpse at the other side, could almost see the next stretch of freedom that was waiting for her.

The ground beneath her gave way. Only slightly, a steep, brief sweep down from the rest of the road's slow incline. The handlebars jerked far off to the right and the bike bucked Lily from its seat like a frightened gazelle.

She crashed into a sharper slope of the mountain, rolled back down it along with the mud, the rainfall. Immediately she started heaving herself back up, with what little strength she could muster. The bike had crashed into a different part of the mountainside some ways off.

Lily squinted and could barely make the motorized beast out through the haze around her. It was mud-soaked and rain streaked down its front like mucous down the face of a sick child. And its shattered headlight stared back at her like a bloodshot eye of a cyclops.

With another push, Lily brought herself back upright. Pain shot through her leg as she tried to take a step. She ran a hand over her knee and felt a sticky warmth where the leg of her pants should have been.

She gritted her teeth and limped onward, finally brought the motorcycle up on both its wheels. With both her hands clutching the handlebars she walked with it in tow, leaning what weight she could against it, her bad foot held off the ground.

It was slow going. But at least it was safer, clearer. Actually traveling _on_ the bike the fog would have crippled her, as things were.

Another spurt of pain burned through her knee. Crippled her _more_.

She walked and walked, rolled and rolled, up the incline and around its curves. Still the wind coughed its damp fury at her.

* * *

It was still raining when Lily found the small outpost near the mountain's peak. If it had cleared up she might not have bothered knocking at all.

But she was lucky enough to have someone come once she'd knocked. A little old woman who'd hurried her inside after a single glance, had a couple younger women in similarly plain dresses go put the motorcycle somewhere off and dry.

"This is no weather to be traveling in," she lectured as she guided Lily down a hallway and into an infirmary of some kind. "You must be wearing some god's graces to have found us when you did, I hope you appreciate."

Lily laid down, rolled up her pant leg as ordered. She didn't feel terribly graced, no matter what the old woman said.

The old woman coated her knee with bandages and brought Lily straight to a small guest room. She told her to rest there for as long as she needed, certainly at least until the rain stopped. And that there'd be food later in the evening, and she'd better be there for it.

Lily mostly wondered why nobody had asked her for any money yet. It would have made her feel better about the whole ordeal.

After a few minutes on the guest room's cramped cot she decided her leg was patched-up enough to walk on and headed out. She wandered around the place some, took in its tight, stone architecture. Hardly very welcoming, any of it, despite the treatment she was getting.

She strolled past a few rooms, what few there were to stroll past. A kitchen, more guest rooms, a locked-off back garden. Then a larger room, more open, with cushions lining the floor and scrolls written in some indecipherable chart of squiggles hanging along the walls.

There was just one person in the room, seated on a cushion. She had a slim silhouette and a stick of incense burning next to her. She must have heard Lily going by and turned to glance at her as she stopped in the doorway. Her hair was green and her eyes had a nostalgic sparkle to them.

Lily froze. Somehow, the thought of running didn't find its way to her legs. It wouldn't even form in her head.

"You must be a traveler," the young woman said. "Don't worry—we get travelers a lot, here. Plenty end up going over the mountains, some time or another."

"Guess I'm like them, then," Lily said.

"No, you're not. I can tell that much."

Lily stared, felt herself walking in closer. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you're different. You're not your everyday kind of traveler. It's like you're more devoted to it."

"And what makes you say that, exactly?"

The other woman shrugged. "Dunno. Something about the way you present yourself, I guess. Like how you're walking right now—it's not so much about getting somewhere as just the act of _going_. Am I right?"

"Guess you're not _wrong_," Lily said, lowering herself down on a cushion nearby. If she was going to engage this lunacy she might as well be comfortable.

"Then, are you going somewhere after this? After you're done being here?"

"I'd like to know where 'here' is, first off," Lily said.

"It's a temple," the young woman said, flatly.

"Ah." That explained the hospitality. "Any sort of _particular_ temple?"

"To the Windbringers," she explained. "We're here in devotion to them. I was just finishing some prayers before you came in."

"I see," Lily said. She'd never in her life heard of any "Windbringers."

"So, why are you here?"

"Just passing through," Lily said. "I probably wouldn't have bothered you, but I ran into some trouble on the road."

"Passing through to where, exactly?" the woman with the green hair asked.

"Depends on what's nearby, I guess."

"So, to wherever the road takes you?"

"Wouldn't put it like that. The road doesn't take me anywhere. _I_ take _it_, and I end up at places."

"Interesting distinction."

"It's just the way it is. That's all."

The smell of the incense was still wafting through the room, blending into the scrolls and the cushions around the two of them. Lily could make out a few statues beneath the scrolls now that she was closer: short figures of jade with blank, emerald masks instead of faces, posed in the middle of a dance while carrying flutes or trumpets or accordions.

"Could I ask your name?" the young woman spoke up.

"Lily," was the reply.

"But you don't need to ask my name, do you?" she also said.

Lily shook her head. "No. I don't." For whatever reason, it didn't matter that the other woman knew that. Maybe the Windbringers told her.

"You're probably wondering _why_ you don't need to ask," Gumi said, "why you know already. Or rather, why you got the chance to memorize the name."

"Not especially, actually," Lily said.

"Good." Gumi smiled, wafted away a bit more of the incense's fumes. "That's a good first start."

"All I'd really like to know," Lily went on, "is if there's any way to stop it."

"Is it really all that bad?"

"It's the being followed, the being tempted," she said. "I just don't want to live my life this way. All this fear and hiding from this familiarity I never asked for... It's not why I'm out here."

"So you don't like it because you can't run from it," Gumi said. "Is that right?"

Lily chuckled, almost scoffed. "I'm not running from anything."

"But you have to be. When you travel, you're either running to, or you're running from. And you're certainly not running _to_—you said as much yourself."

"That's not how it is. All I'm doing is drifting, making my own choices. You're limiting things too much."

Gumi sighed, readjusted her seating a bit. "So I guess you'd say you drift for no real reason, then?"

"There's a reason behind it. I act the way I do because it's who I am."

"That's why anybody does anything," Gumi said.

"Well, I'm different," Lily replied. "Because I'm someone choosing to be free. I'm someone who's choosing how to make herself."

"And that's freedom? Taking the signpost saying 'free' at every crossroads, no matter what else is there?"

Lily shrugged. "It's better than standing still."

"Sounds to me like another way of being trapped," Gumi said. "But then, I'm not you. I don't know your life, what makes you run." She wafted the last trailing wisps of smoke from the incense more thoroughly around the room. "Where are you from, if I might ask?"

"Does that really matter?"

"It might. If you were from, say, someplace real boring, real confining, that might make someone want to up and leave, see the world and all that."

"You _can't_ think it's that simple."

"So, I'm wrong?"

"Look, nothing like that figured into any of this, okay?" Lily said. "I just knew it wasn't the place for me—I knew it wasn't where anything could come together. So I left. And no one missed me."

"No one?" Gumi asked. Her voice was piercing, yet because of the warmth it carried instead of accusation.

"No one," Lily repeated. "No one was left who would've. Not after what happened to _her_." She sighed, leaned back to the edge of the cushion, her arms propping herself up. "I can't say I never think about things being different, but they can't be. Not anymore. But I don't regret how it all turned out, really. I finally made a choice, a _genuine_ choice, because of that. Maybe the second one I'd made my entire life."

"What was the first?"

Lily smiled, stared off a long moment. "Taking a gamble. One I couldn't've known I'd lose."

"I see," Gumi said. She was staring at the floor, at the smoldering remains of the incense. Anywhere but at the moody woman stuck in the past, it seemed.

"But that's nothing I want to focus on now, the losing," Lily said, recomposing herself. "I learned what I could from how it all turned out, and I'm better off for it. That's the best way to take these things, right?"

"I guess," Gumi said. "I mean, that's a pretty usual thing to say."

"Well, maybe you'll appreciate what I learned, being a religious type." She propped herself back up some. "See, I figured out that not being missed was actually a kind of blessing. It means you can go where you want, _when_ you want, free as a bird. You're not tied down to anyplace or to anyone, so you can just breeze on by and nothing'll change. Because, if you're not missed by anyone, you haven't hurt anyone."

"And if you haven't hurt anyone," Gumi said, "then no one's gonna hurt you. Is that how the rest goes?"

Lily shrugged again—somehow the movement came slower this time. "More or less."

"But you know it's not that simple."

"It works for the most part, but it's not a guarantee."

"But a guarantee would be to just not let them get the chance to do anything," Gumi said. "To have moved on before they can leave an impression. Because by then, you're vulnerable."

"No," Lily said. She shook her head, vigorously. "No, that's not me at all. It's not like that."

"Are you sure?"

Lily opened her mouth, but instead of speaking she let it hang open, let the scented air of the room linger inside for a long, silent moment. And she closed it again once she'd realized she didn't have an answer to give.

"Thought so," Gumi said. "Still worth asking, though. It's not like I _knew_, you know."

"It's not like I want anything wrong, you know," Lily spoke up. "What I want doesn't hurt anybody. I go someplace, I leave, and nothing changes."

"Like the wind," the woman with the green hair mused.

Slowly, Lily nodded. "Yeah. Like the wind, I guess."

"But, you know that isn't true, don't you?"

"It _is_ true. All I do is sing a few dumb songs people want to hear and then I'm gone. It's like I hadn't come in the first place."

"But that's not what you do," Gumi said. "And it's _exactly_ because you give people songs, because you give them stories. See, both of those are like magic. No matter what they touch, _who_ they touch, they change. In one way or another."

Lily looked at the floor. "Like magic," she repeated, softly.

"I don't think you're totally off, for what it's worth," Gumi went on. "But there has to come a point, for everyone, where they stop running. And it seems to me it's that point you're most afraid of. Even more than what made you start running in the first place."

The statues surrounding the room stared on at them from their frozen musical poses. The smell of incense was only faint in the air by now.

"Do you know anything I can do?" Lily asked. "To stop this?"

Gumi looked puzzled. "To stop what?"

"Never mind," Lily said. "Kind of a stupid question. I don't even know what it is I want to stop, really. Or even what it is I don't want to see anymore, or why. I don't really know any of it."

Gumi put a hand over hers. "Maybe the knowing isn't important."

And Lily sighed, smiled. "Maybe."

It wasn't until the call for dinner that they left the room. Neither had said another word.

* * *

No matter how many times Lily offered it, the nuns wouldn't take any money from her. They insisted everything they'd done had to be as charity.

So Lily gave them what she had as a donation. They accepted it once she'd called it that.

The clear skies made the trip down the mountain a breeze. She was able to take in the landscape around her now, the rough cut of the peaks and slopes. Everything was shades of green and brown.

And right at the bottom of the mountains there was a sign pointing along the road. "Kalva" was all the sign had written on it. Lily liked that. She appreciated some simplicity right about then.

Luckily, it wasn't too long until she hit the outskirts of Kalva. She'd spent enough gas already just on the mountains. Not to mention sooner or later she'd have to have the headlight fixed.

She got off the bike, parked it somewhere out of the way. Further into town she found a small square, with an old man sweeping at the steps of an old shop.

"I see you're a musician," he observed. Dust was flying up in small clouds as he spoke, kept on sweeping. "Strange. Don't get many musicians passing by these days."

So Lily explained he was right, that she wanted someplace to play tonight. He pointed her in the direction of a bar, a place he said generally got large crowds come evening. She thanked him and went on her way.

And at the bar Lily played a song, impressed the barkeep, got the gig. The only other person in the building was the bartender. She didn't so much as glance at Lily as she nursed a beer, somehow made it last around an hour.

The show she played that night was quiet, but well received. She played a basic lineup, more or less what she expected the people there would want to hear. Songs about love in far-off, majestic places, mainly.

Lily looked around at the audience that'd gathered there between songs. Most were staring up at her with tired faces. Others were busy murmuring to whomever they were seated near.

Not one of the faces was familiar. No matter how many times Lily scanned over them all.

So she kept playing and playing, on into the deep dark of the night, even once most of the people had gotten tired and went home.

When she'd finally finished, there was a young woman who walked up to Lily, congratulated her on a show well performed. She had long red hair tied off into a sharp ponytail and a gorgeous figure. Her eyes were scanning Lily's own figure up and down with a look of approval.

Lily smiled at her, said a word or two of thanks. She didn't want more time around her, or around anybody else. Even though she knew that would mean sinking deeper into some growing sense that she was alone, more alone than she ever bothered considering before.

But she didn't fight the urge. It felt natural, all too natural.

That night she slept in a chair at the bar, after begging the barkeep for it.

* * *

She woke up the next morning feeling the way she'd felt the other night. The way she'd felt the other night was that she didn't want to stay at that town any longer.

The newly rising sun greeted her as she lugged her guitar and knapsack over to her bike. The sound of the wind blowing was strangely loud in the morning's stillness. Somewhere nearby a wind turbine was slowly spinning, adding a low sort of creaking noise to the blowing.

Lily looked up as she got on the bike. She realized the turbine was right over her.

She was about to turn on the engine when she heard a kind of calling from far off.

"Hey! Hey!" the calling went. It was accompanied by rapid footsteps.

Lily turned and saw the footsteps were coming from a young woman who was running up to her. The young woman had short-cut, green hair that bounced as she ran. She had on work boots, an orange jacket, and a short skirt.

"Wait up!" she called, right before she was next to Lily. Lily stared at her as she took a moment to catch her breath.

"Wow, I didn't think I'd get this lucky," the young woman said. "Hey, you're the musician, right? The one who played last night?"

"Yeah," Lily said.

"I knew it! Yes!" The woman with the green hair smiled wide, stared up at Lily with eyes sparkling with glee—nostalgic, somehow. "Look, I meant to get to your show last night, I _really_ did, but it's just... See, I had this late shift at the masonry around here, and I couldn't get out of it. Not on that short notice, anyway."

"Makes sense," Lily said.

"Yeah." The wind turbine kept creaking. The young woman added to its slow percussion with a kick or two of gravel as she glanced at the ground. "I just wanted to see you, is the thing. We don't really get many musicians from out of town. Most of them, once they're over the mountains, they don't want to bother stopping at a place as small as this."

"They're missing out. It's kinda charming."

She laughed. "Yeah, if you call _dilapidated_ charming. This place is a real dump."

The laugh pierced through Lily, got her to smile. "You like music, then?"

"I love it! I'm actually sort of studying it, myself. You know, trying to teach myself to sing, when I can. Mostly I'm stuck listening to whatever's on the radio, but sometimes people play here. You're the first I missed, I'm pretty sure."

"Then, how about I play something right now?"

The young woman's smile dropped off, her eyes going wide.

"What?" she asked. "Oh, no, I couldn't ask that from you—you're just going right now, I wouldn't want to hold you up."

"It's no problem. I like playing private shows."

She laughed again. "Well, in that case, could I get your name first? Just so I know who's giving me this... you know, _honor_."

Lily opened her guitar case, grinning wider. "I'm Lily," she said.

The young woman slapped her forehead, in a show of embarrassment. "Oh, I should've said who _I _am first, right? I'm—"

"Gumi."

And her smile fell off again. "How did you...?"

"A lucky guess," Lily explained. She plucked each string, fiddled with the tuners some. "Tell me if you've heard this one before, okay?"

She strummed out a few opening chords and started singing about two lovers who'd first met on a beach.

Her voice felt like velvet as it hummed in her throat, came to life out into the cool morning air. There was a kind of energy in it that bonded with the plucking and strumming of the guitar strings, all of it morphing into something that seemed to be taking on a life of its own. She couldn't tell where that newborn life was headed after it was made, remade in every moment. But it didn't matter. What mattered was each birth in and of themselves, the history of births leading up to it, like links holding together a chain long enough to wrap around the whole earth. And each note, each chord fell out just so, part of some pattern that bound them all together but was still its own being in the brevity it was allowed to echo out.

Still Lily sang. About how the lovers met, how they parted, how they thought only of one another when they were away. About how before they could see one another again a war had started, and the both of them were shipped off to different parts of the land for their own safety, and how even though they were both alive and well they felt they were living empty existences.

By the second refrain, Gumi's voice had drawn itself out into the air, had bonded with the rest of the energies to make the next set of beings birthed different still. She harmonized with Lily beautifully. Every word she let out seemed happy to be alive.

The war ended years later, but neither of the lovers forgot about the other. One was left traveling far and wide after the boat she was sailing on crashed, but she fought every inch of the way to get back home. And at long last the two of them met, on the same sands were they'd first spoken, first became consumed with one another.

It was the sort of ending that was popular with people, usually.

The last chord rang out, echoed and faded. Lily set her guitar down.

"I didn't think you'd know that one," she said.

"I don't think I do, actually," Gumi giggled. "Weird. I guess you just have a way of playing it."

"I guess," Lily said.

The wind turbine creaked another few loud moans as it turned.

"That must've been the loveliest song I've ever heard," Gumi said.

Lily smiled. "You should hear some more music."

"But it's true!" Gumi insisted. "It was so beautiful, the whole idea of it all." She sighed, dreamily. "Do you think there's actually a beach like that, somewhere? A place that beautiful?"

"I think there has to be," Lily said. "I think everything I sing about has to be real, in one way or another. But maybe leaving it at just a beach is too simple, too tied down. Maybe what was that magic beach for them can be whatever you need a place to be for you."

"Maybe," Gumi conceded. "Still, I don't know. I'd like to see the seaside, someday. I never have."

"I might be there, soon," Lily offered. "Depending on how the roads here run."

"I'm jealous," Gumi laughed.

"Then come with me."

Gumi stared at her, like a child staring up at a magician she was convinced was real. Her voice came out in stutters. "That's... that's absolutely crazy. I couldn't."

"What would you be leaving behind?"

"Well, my job, and..." She trailed off. "...I don't know. Just, the things that are here, I guess. The people. But then again I was never really all that attached to any of them. They don't think much of musicians, generally."

Lily sympathized. She didn't say so, but she did, deep down.

"But, would that really be okay with you?" Gumi asked. "I mean, I'd just weigh you down. You barely know me."

"Don't I?" Lily said.

Still the wind blew, the turbine swung round and round. There was a kind of spark in the other woman's eyes that made Lily realize what the nostalgia was.

It was determination. Not the willingness to move, but to discover. To not only find, but find with purpose, and once wherever it was where she truly belonged _was_ found, to be willing to take the chance of seeing its disappointments as well as its magic.

She'd said something like that to herself, once. And after to herself, to someone whom she couldn't speak with anymore but could still think about, in her moments of weakness. It was a part of her that had never really been covered up, despite all the pleasure and novelty she'd piled over the hurt.

And she thought that maybe it was possible she'd let go too much, in that moment. She thought that maybe something had to keep her grounded.

"It's so odd," Gumi said, "but, I feel like you _do_ know me. Somehow. It's just, I don't know why."

"Is it scary? That feeling?"

"No," she answered, shaking her head. "But, it's something I feel like I have to learn about more. Like it's something I have to wake up before I can see."

Lily smiled. Her guitar was packed up by now, resting on her back. "Then hop on, princess. Awakening awaits."

So Gumi smiled in turn and did, clutched onto Lily around the waist.

And they sped off, out from the town, kicking up dust and dirt as they went. Through their hair the wind was whistling a song from far away.

* * *

A/N: I'd like to give another big "thank you" to Genki Collective for her wonderful beta work on this story.

Still more in the works, folks!


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